Will Hay’s Story
London, England. July, 1938
The great British film star, Mr Will Hay, walked into the cinema foyer and paused to acknowledge the cheers and applause of the circle of people, dressed in fancy frocks and dinner suits, who were clustered by the box offices to greet him.
He raised his hand in thanks and as the welcome died down, he cleared his throat, and despite the fact it was a little after seven in the evening, he said, ‘Morning, boys!’
The expression was something of a catchphrase for Hay and his audience rewarded it with a further smattering of applause. He stepped forward and was introduced to the venue’s owner.
Hay’s manager said, ‘This is Mr Leonard Alexander,’ and the two men shook hands.
‘Thank you so much for agreeing to officially open my picture palace, Mr Hay. I’m one of your biggest fans. I saw Oh, Mr Porter! five times. I saw Windbag the Sailor three times.’
The actor smiled and Leonard anticipated a vaguely amusing comeback – Oh, really? And what was wrong with Windbag? But Hay merely thanked him politely.
‘And, Mr Hay, this is my son, George.’
A tall, expectant man in his early twenties stepped forward and began to wring the film star’s hand. ‘It’s an honour to meet you.’
‘You’re very kind,’ Hay replied, gently pulling his arm away. ‘And how many times have you seen Oh, Mr Porter!?’
‘Just the once, sir. But I’ve read Through My Telescope many times. It opened my eyes to the stars.’
‘Oh, I see!’ He sounded impressed. ‘You saw Porter once and read my book quite often?’ Hay looked to Leonard. ‘There’s hope for this young man!’
‘There is indeed!’
Hay leant into George. ‘Thank you, my boy.’ As he was shepherded away to meet other people, he patted him on the arm and said, ‘If we were all astronomers, there’d be no more war.’